poetwarrior: (Headshot)

(no subject)

While lots of human-style furniture is understandably meant for bipeds and little else, there is a K'da poet-warrior who is appreciating the chance to test out one of the chaise lounges in the Forum, its cushion long enough to allow the entire length of the tiger-sized creature to stretch out comfortably, hanging his forepaws over the side.

Perhaps it's frivolous to spend his time this way when there are other things he could be doing, but he's been in the Nexus many times and never had reason to ask a question. That is no longer the case.

"Have you ever had cause to uproot yourself from your home and travel to places unknown, with no intention of returning? Did you encounter any difficulties that you had not expected?"

[[OOC: x-post to [community profile] nexus_crossings]]

(no subject)

Bond never seems out of place anywhere he goes, no matter how much he doesn't match a usual crowd. Here's no different. He's also not usually one to talk to strangers - well, not about his actual life. He's recalcitrant to a fault when it comes to his personal business, what little of it he's ever had.

Waking up this morning had unsettled him, though. The weather was lovely. Madeline was already up. He had smelled tea and heard her moving around their flat. They hadn't spoken in a day and a half, though he couldn't actually remember why she was angry with him this time. It was probably something entirely justified. He'd still needed out of the house. It wasn't right.

So, he'd come here. He stood with his hands in his pockets, ostensibly looking relaxed. His eyes darted around, though, cataloging every person or - thing. He always forgot the strangeness of this, even though he'd seen many a strange thing in his lifetime. It's been a long time since he's come. His life has been full of strange things recently, or at least strange to him. He hasn't indulged many of his habits.

"What do you do when you're bored?" He drawls. That's not the best way to put how he feels, but - well. That's what you're getting.

+1 gun fight

A new door opens in the Nexus, signalled by the fact that there is a serious gun-fight on the other end. A young blonde, wearing skin-tight clothes and sporting colorful ponytails, rolls through the door. She fires some shots back into the scene that she just left as cover fire, before slamming the door closed for a brief moment to catch her breath.

It takes her a moment to realize that she doesn't hear the gun fire anymore.

And then she stands, alerted to the fact that she is somewhere new. Somewhere with millions of sights... and sounds... Her eyes get big. And wide.

She puts her gun into a holster at her hips, as she spins around to take in everything all at once. And laughs, as she spins faster and faster, until she gets a little dizzy and has to sit down.

When a random couch shows up right in front of her, it causes another laugh as the girl plops down on the cushy cushions. "I am dreaming... someone pinch me."
boldygoing: (At the bar)
[personal profile] boldygoing2017-06-18 10:58 pm

(no subject)

Of all the things Jim Kirk wishes he could do right now, getting good and drunk to drown his sorrows is certainly towards the top of the list. But his doctor says no, absolutely not, and never in his life has he wanted to go against doctor's orders less than he does lately.

So the captain finds himself in the Forum, unsure even what the hell to do with himself, and he gingerly eases himself down onto one of the couches, moving with the careful patience of the recently physically injured, before he notices the date on a nearby calendar.

Father's Day. Huh. How... stupidly appropriate.

"For those who've lost a parent... how the hell do you honor their memory? Even if you haven't, do you bother doing holidays like this?"
losthunter: (time to reveal my face)
[personal profile] losthunter2017-05-21 10:33 am

(no subject)

When Hunter made his first appearance in the Nexus, it was in The Parklands. And today, he is sitting in the same spot near the water. He has a canvas set up, and is working on a large piece depicting a mother pushing a child on a swing set. There is also a large collection of books near him. Obviously he had been studying over something of importance.

He gets to the point where the canvas is nearly complete, when he stops and places his brushes to the side. After studying the canvas for a moment, Hunter reaches out and touches the canvas, right in the lower left corner.

He closes his eyes and concentrates, and after a moment, the picture on the canvas comes to life. There is also a soft glow on his arm, where a few tiny roses bloom to life on the rose bush.

But the moment doesn't last long. It ends very quickly. And Hunter sighs a little frustrated. "What am I doing wrong?"
boldygoing: (Smirk)
[personal profile] boldygoing2017-05-16 11:14 pm

(no subject)

James T. Kirk absolutely loves marketplaces.

It's not necessarily because he's looking for anything, per se, although he does often keep an eye out for interesting books to add to his collection, or maybe a bottle of some kind of exotic alcohol, or some kind of pointless alien gizmo with which to annoy Spock with its purposeless existence. No, he just loves the sheer diversity each bazaar brings to the table.

No two markets have ever been alike, in his experience. Sure, it's not quite as exciting and mysterious as exploring deep space, but it's something of a microcosm of the same, all sorts of goods and cultures thrown into close quarters, and one never knows what one might find just down the street.

His shipboard gold uniform may stand out a bit in the crowd as he meanders along, a faint smile on his face as he leans in to examine someone's wares on display, just enjoying being out and about in the fresh air.

[OOC: Retconning Jim eating bacon in this thread. Hadn't fully considered some of the elements in his backstory at the time.]
losthunter: (introspective into my soul)
[personal profile] losthunter2016-11-16 03:32 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

Hunter has an art and craft table set up in the commercial district today. He has an assortment of gifts on display, that anyone could purchase if they are looking for an early Christmas gift. He also has an assortment of his paintings and portraits on display.

There is also pottery items, ranging from mugs and cups, to plates and platters, and candle holders.

He also has some hand-crafted jewelry on display. Most of the jewelry incorporates the rose petals, ranging from bracelets, earrings and necklaces.

There is also a sign on the table.
Looking to make something special for your loved ones?
Not sure how to start?
Artisan services available, to help guide you to the perfect gift

Samhain Ball Redux - Second Star to the Right

Something flits through the skies of the Nexus, bobbing and swooping only to climb again, an ecstatic aerial dance. At last, mirth of the moment giving way to some other whim, the flying figure drifts groundward, turning and drifting like a falling leaf until his feet, clad in pointed-toed green suede moccasins alight. Forest green tights hug lean legs all the way up to a bright green tunic, belted with rich brown leather and a bright brass buckle. On his left hip hang a set of pan pipes; on his right, a black-handled knife. An impish grin curls his lips, his eyes sparkle with the promise of mischief, and a pert green cap sits atop his head, crowned by a lone red feather. Could this be the black-suited GQ cover model who makes himself ubiquitous in the better-traveled spaces of the Nexus? Could it be Schön?

It is. "People of the Nexus, friends, in the world from which I hail we stand on the cusp of a special day, a harvest-fest when the walls between worlds grow thin, when masks and costumes are worn to frighten away wicked spirits--or to invite them in on more congenial terms. Today we bid Summer adieu, and raise fire and song to meet the long night! Join me, for an evening to last a lifetime, and a farewell to a season well-loved." His hand rises, pointing to where two bright beacons blaze in the churn of the Nexus' heavens. "Second star to the right, and we'll keep on 'til morning!" Crowing with laughter, he soars for that distant point like an arrow, leaving a trail of sparkling, glittering motes of light for anyone interested to follow.

At the end of the trail... )

((Happy Halloween! Enjoy the festivities, threadhopping is encouraged, tag back whenever you have time, and don't worry about missing out--we'll still be here when you get back.))
YouTube Playlist
Dark Corners

enter a lost prince

 Jalan had been through Hel.  No literally.  He'd walked through actual Hel and it honestly was one of the worst experiences of his life.  Far less fire and brimstone then he thought though.  It was mostly just a vast endless gray desert.  Filled with, of course, countless abominations that wouldn't be out of place in the deepest dankest of nightmares.  Which was why he was so very incredibly thrilled to discover there was actually an Exit.  An exit that would take you anywhere you thought of when you opened it.  Unless you weren't thinking of a 'where'.  Then it just dumped you kinda... wherever.  And Jalan wasn't really thinking about anything besides outrunning the terrifying lady demon who seemed rather keen on tearing off his delicate bits.

So he really didn't care very much where he ended up as he tumbled through the door.  He spun around to slam the door shut, a magical black key clutched in his hand ready to lock it up tight so Little Miss Hellspawn couldn't eat his soul... only to discover there was no door.  He looked around in confusion but ended up breathing a sigh of relief.  His key was on a chain so he slipped it back around his neck as he got a good look around.

Didn't recognize anything one bit.  But he wasn't really concerned.  Honestly he was just grateful that he was alive and not in Hel, and there were no undead monstrosities looking at him with hungry eyes.

He was a little concerned when he read the brochure.  The food wasn't safe?  What about the water? He hadn't had a sip since he started traipsing about the Afterlife and he was beyond thirsty.  And starving.  Honestly he was just a complete mess right now.  Even his garb, which normally might make a Lord of the Rings cosplayer green with envy, was covered in dust, dried blood, and torn beyond repair.

"Pardon me," Lost, alone, and on the verge of dehydration, the prince put on his best, most charming of smiles and waved to the closest person, "I've read the food and drink here could be dangerous.  Any chance you can lead me to something safe? A change of clothes too... these have.  Had it I think."

Plus he felt as if he was sticking out like a sore thumb.  Most of the people here... well they weren't dressed like him really.  In fact a lot of them reminded him of the little he'd seen of the ancient Builder's culture.  Weird.
mosthonest: (005)
[personal profile] mosthonest2016-08-13 11:04 am

(no subject)

Iago enters. Stage left.

He's been perusing one of those brochures and then tucks it away somewhere in his doublet. He's a soldier, and the astute might guess by his clothes -- unremarkable, but they have the crisp unworn look of who does not go about his life as a civilian much -- and his bearing. Iago looks like a man who has done much marching, and so is enjoying the freedom he has to amble and lounge while he can in his own time. He's got an easy, open face.

"Here's for you soldiers," he says to the Forum in general. "How fare you in times of peace? Find you solace in that gentler life, and put you far your battle ways and bloody thoughts with ease as a man hangs up arms?"

Iago licks his lips. Not in a menacing way, he just looks thirsty. For answers, for war, more probably just for beer.

"Or does the blood run hot? Dost count the minutes to the next campaign, and think you of the quiet and indolent world outside of war, 'this is not life'?"
comeonguess: (Default)

(no subject)

Until he joined the crew of the Lost Light, Pipes had only ever been on Cybertron and space stations. And so, he joined up to see the universe, and have adventures, and make friends. He was very eager, very enthusiastic, very excited to be on his way.

Unfortunately, most people don't really like being around someone who's very eager, very enthusiastic, and very excited. Most people find that very annoying. So the making friends thing didn't really pan out all that well.

And as for adventures...mostly, he got hurt. He got shot and sick and hurt. Which...are sort like adventures. Maybe?  At least he got to see some of the universe. He also got to see a lot of the medibay. 

Then he saw the bottom of Overlord's foot. A few times, actually. 

And then? Then, well. Then he died.

And that's where we come in...

A small mech wanders into the Nexus...well, he's small by Cybertronian standards.  To the average humanoid, sixteen feet is possibly not that small. It's funny how that works, isn't it?

He looks around, optics bewildered behind their visor shield. "Um," he says after a moment, fingers twisting together with soft metallic whirs. "Um, is this the Afterspark? Cos...this is not at all what I was picturing."

(no subject)

April enjoys taking the time to explore the Nexus, whenever she has the opportunity. Today, she had already been in the Commercial District, picking up some school supplies for the children, and some new fabrics for her next clothing line.

She was heading to her door, passing by a few people as she does, when suddenly April stops. There is a gazed far-away look in her eyes for a moment.

April turns, looking around for a moment as if she had misplaced something. Or is looking for someone. She sets down her bags for a moment, before taking a seat. There still seems to be something amiss, since she tilts her head back and forth, for a moment, as if listening to something that is not there.

"Are you lost? Do you need help?" When she speaks, her question is soft.

[April has psychic abilities, and can sense danger to people around her. If you wish for her to sense something about your character, please let me know]
newtruths: (Default)
[personal profile] newtruths2016-07-31 07:59 pm

in which loki is bored and decides to give out magical rorschach tests


Loki sat up just in time for a small black key to bounce of his head and fall in his lap. He looked at it in bewilderment for a moment before it turned into a ring that coiled like a snake around his finger. When he stood he was rather on the short side, and thin as a rail. Really aside from overly large eyes he was rather unassuming. If you ignored the fact that he looked as if he'd walked off the set of The Lord of the Rings. And the fact that his garb seemed to constantly shift in cut and color.

Though as he took a little bit of a walk around and read a brochure someone handed my he slowly took on a more modern look that ended with a pair of ripped up and battered skinny jeans, the holes and tears in which seemed to be slowly wandering and meandering around his legs, and a faded old graphic t-shirt, the print of which apparently shifted every time one stopped paying attention to it. And no shoes! Because sometimes you just really don't feel like wearing them.

"I guess I didn't fall apart quite as badly as I thought I would," he laughed as he pocketed the brochure and fiddled with the ring that was a key minutes before. It shifted again as he walked. Now it was a small rubix cube, black on all side that he twisted and turned without really looking at it. And then it was a key again, which he flipped into the air and caught.

An idle Loki with nothing to do, no plots winding down, and no one to pester was never a particularly good thing.

He turned on his heel just in time to stop someone passing by. He holds the key out already turning into a puddle of liquid onyx in his hand and forming into something new. Something unknown.

"Tell me stranger, what do you see here?"

A simple enough magic was working here. A magical Rorschach test you could call it. Whatever the new target of his boredom thought they saw in the amorphous twisting liquid key would be plucked from their imagination and made solid. Sometimes they saw something they desired, money, their lost love. Sometimes they saw fears.  Sometimes it was something from their past.  Other times it was completely random; a bird, a shoe, a rock.  Yes one highly uncreative individual once imagined a rock in the depths of a reality altering wrong magic spell.  Whatever they thought they saw in this three dimensional Rorschach, would be plucked from their imagination and made solid in the palm of his hand.

"Will you walk into my parlor?"

In the Nexus are many streets, roads, alleys and avenues. Some are bustling with activity, featuring beings of all shapes and sizes buying and selling and eating and entertaining. In this Everything Drawer of the Multiverse one can find almost anything or anyone they want or need, provided they are willing to look for it hard enough. One doesn't have to look hard to find the busybody that is Officer Steve Austin, however. With eyes softened just a bit, stray from the beaten path, down that less traveled way, known for its overpriced, out-of-stock, and/or sub-par offerings. Down that way, there is what appears to be a dusty old pawn shop or perhaps a gunsmith or perhaps an antique store, and if one looks close enough they might notice that despite its dilapidation and darkened interior, the venue is apparently not not-in-business. Or at least, it is not closed. From time to time a figure can be seen moving within, none other than the good Nexus Officer of the Law, tinkering with assorted and unidentifiable bits and bobs of mechanical nature.

A sign --in fact, the only sign borne by the shop-- too small to be seen from further than the sidewalk immediately outside reads simply, "Weaponsmith." Fancy that; Officer Austin must be moonlighting. Will anyone walk into his parlor?

(no subject)

There are many cases of moments when a person has not realized that they have just entered the Nexus. This seems to be the situation, when one of the doors into the Forum swings open, letting one Hermione Granger enter. The young witch is balancing a large piles of books as she walks, thus remains blissfully unaware that she has entered the Forum.

Hermione walks carefully, counting her steps just under her breath. In the library where she had originally been, there was a table exactly 15 steps away from the research section, which she is now looking for to set down her books.

Unfortunately, in the Forum, there is no table exactly 15 steps away. So when Hermione gets to her destination, and goes to set down the books, she trips over the fact that there is nothing there. The books go flying out of her arms...but in a split second, Hermione pulls out her wand and calls out "Leviosa!" The books start to float in the air, none of them hitting the ground.

With one eye on the floating books, Hermione glances around her new surroundings. She needs to find a safe place to lower her spell and figure out what do to next. Won't someone help her?

Yet another return of bard.

C'taqa, now looking a bit tanned, rather shaggy, and still very much cattelike, is perched upon a Convenient Nexus Chair with harp in hand, idly plucking away.

"To leap, perchance to soar, perchance to fly
With lance in hand, unto the boundless blue
With grace descending back to earth from sky
To strike - displaying aim most keen and true...

And singing. Because, well, bard.

He stops there, plucks out a few more notes, grins at the Nexus at large. "I feel creative today. Anyone want to inspire me?"

((Just give silly catte a subject (and possibly an explanation of said subject, if need be) and you'll get a snippet of bardsong!

Mun has injured wrist; replies may be slow.))

Welcome to the Future (Or not so bright after all future)..

Somewhere in the Nexus, a time portal is somehow opening near the ground and there is a sudden rush of air and swirling.

When you step into John's future Earth, time travel to his earth corrodes your clothing and you end up with nothing but your birthday suit on the other side.

The scenery around you is dark, filled with plasma guns and big and little terminators, sounds of Tech-Com/Human Resistance Soldiers.

By chance, you might run into some remaining survivors fighting over the last of the food in the world.

The question is...

Will you enter this world?

[Welcome to a mini event where your character can choose to hop into John Connor's world and help or harm the human resistance or Skynet/Terminator side]

+1 dragon

((Be gentle if I've done something silly, I'm new and to be frank, I can be a bit airheaded.))

What an intriguing feeling. Nobody was batting an eye at the dragon. They were too busy reading brochures and taking each other in, and Shade couldn't blame them. Some of the 'humans' looked far stranger than he did. They had strangely colored skin or pointed ears, and other beings barely looked human at all.

Apparently this was the norm for the Nexus. Shade himself had read the basics of the brochure, with some effort that is. He was finding it difficult to follow the pamphlet's suggestion about asking questions. To do so was to leave yourself vulnerable... but still, he did have a few curiosities about mortalkind.

"The knowledge that you're going to die someday, why doesn't it seem to bother you?"
Entry tags:

Chatter with the scruffy one?

The Nexus' resident scoundrel is never particularly happy when things are stagnant. Han's been hustling in some capacity, since he was old enough to walk and talk, so it's not as if he's used to having copious amounts of 'spare time'. He's not sure he would describe his existence in the Nexus as that, but it was far more like it than what he was used to.  And in general a life on terra firma, all the time, isn't to his taste.

There's been good in his time.  He wouldn't try to deny as much.  But there's also been bad and even some ugly.

Somehow, he manages to endure.  Even when the odds where against him to do just that, there were friends to help him along.  

What has become clear is that trying to assemble a lot of money at once and by his supplies en mass hasn't been going all that well.  Rather than continuing the same approach again that didn't work before, it seemed like the better course to try something else for a while.  Damn if he knew what it was that he should do, though.  Perhaps study up on the local machinery and put his steady hands to work fixing things in exchange for a wage.  Kryff.  Maybe he should go back to stealing.

For now, those are the thoughts that tend to shuffle through his head - man, I've been here for a 'long time' and how am I gonna ever get the money I need to fix this ship.  Occasionally they're broken up with the stray thoughts of an attraction that seemed pretty unlikely at first.  Those thoughts make him smile when he has them, despite his nature ...

The body of Han Solo is much more defined than the mind.  It can be seen sitting on the lowered ramp of a YT-1300.  He is nursing a pale ale from a glass bottle and watching the sunset disappear behind buildings in the forum.  

If you should find yourself drawn to him for a conversation he'll ask you this, "do you think you'll ever have it all figured out?  Is it possible to have all of you 'ducks in a row' as the saying goes?"  Then he'll flash a lopsided grin, and shake his head.  "Forget all of that.  How bout a beer instead?"
Entry tags:

Super? Confused? Or just super confused ...

There's a stocky man in a shadowy alley of the commerce district. Stocky is ... kind of a generous discriptor all things considered. The man is short. Prone to adopting dramatic crouching poses as well! Which makes him pretty fun to watch, but isn't doing much for his vertically challenged status.

He seems to be seeking something pretty aggressively in the assorted garbage piles around here. At one point jumping into one of the rusty, old dumpsters and flinging assorted junk out of it in an almost cartoonish, projectile fashion. A long suffering sigh in an almost impossibly deep voice voice penetrates through the metal trash containment device.

"Urrrgh. Where is it?"